Not Quite Mr Darcy
by msllamalover
Summary: The Next-Gen girls learn about love, thanks to a certain Mr Darcy. But it takes different people to help them to actually believe in it in reality. A series of seven drabbles each featuring one of the next-gen girls, and a lot of light, fluffy love.


_Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!  
__A/N: It's not often that I write serious, marshmallowy fluff, but when I do, this is the result. Inspired, quite clearly, by Pride and Prejudice. I hope you like it! And remember, a review a day keeps the doctor away!  
Thank you to Tonkswyrda, who checked over this for me!_

* * *

Victoire narrowed her blue eyes, grasping the book in front of her. She'd read it several dozen times, of course. Most of the children in her family had read it courtesy of Aunt Audrey and Aunt Hermione. It was the latter that she suspected of sending her a strategically timed copy now.

'Hugh, is Aunt Hermione home?' She asked her younger cousin. He just laughed and gestured upstairs.

Unsurprisingly, she was waiting for her niece. 'I was wondering when you'd show up, Victoire dear.' She smiled, eyes crinkling. 'Tea? Or would you like to get straight to business?'

'Straight to business, please.' Victoire sat down, then promptly stood up again. 'I got your gift, though you do realise that I already have Pride and Prejudice?'

'Of course.'

'Then what were you trying to suggest by sending it to me?' She asked, not really as confused as she was making out.

Aunt Hermione's face softened, and she sighed. 'Victoire, I've been there. I know what it's like to argue without proper reason, just because you love someone and it's contact. But you're both miserable. If you're the key to someone's sunshine, you shouldn't keep them in the dark.'

'I know, but he's doing the same to me, Aunt Hermione. How do I even know he likes me anyway?' Victoire asked, expecting full well the answers she received. As an after thought, she added, 'He probably doesn't even like me. Anyway, I was always more of a Bingley girl myself.'

'That's odd. I was under the impression that you preferred blue hair and sparkling wit. I wasn't aware Bingley could provide you with that.' She replied knowingly. 'Pride, that's a Weasley thing, and the stubbornness is all your own, dear. Do you really, truly want to know what I think?'

Victoire nodded. Her Aunt _was _the cleverest person she knew in respect to most things, her advice couldn't hurt. 'Okay then.'

'I think that you should just tell him. Before you go back to school. If you don't, then you'll have to wait for Christmas to have the chance to talk to him again.'

'What if he doesn't like me?'

'Victoire, dear, you children don't often believe me, but the entire family knows he likes you immensely.' She rested a hand on her shoulder, though it was quite a feat as Victoire was, at seventeen, quite a bit taller than her. 'And if you're still having issues with the whole idea, I can send Pride and Prejudice to _him_. Though I don't think he'd appreciate it. You might be a Bingley person, but I'd be thankful that he isn't.'

Victoire simply laughed, and nodded, head full of oddities.

(And she doesn't care one little bit that her Aunt's right again. She always was more of a Teddy person, anyway.)

* * *

'Okay, not being funny, but do you think that you see your way to putting me down now?' Roxanne asked, humourlessly. Well, not entirely humourlessly. There was some humour in most things that she said. Growing up with her family, and spending most of her childhood in the Wheeze tended to do that to a girl.

She found herself promptly and unceremoniously dumped on the grass, under a tree by the lake. Her older-by-a-year brother Fred sat down in front of her, Louis, her annoyingly beautiful cousin, and James, her just annoying cousin, sat either side of him. Roxanne sighed. 'What are you going to do, stick Bamboo up my fingernails and wait for me to crack?'

'Someone's been reading their Muggle Studies textbook!' Louis laughed, almost apologetically. Roxanne supposed that he couldn't help being born in the same school year as her brother and cousin. She supposed she'd have to let him off, but it somehow wasn't as fun. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

'Jamie, you do realise it's dinner and you're missing it?' She asked, hoping that it would result in her being allowed back up to dinner herself.

He nodded. Damn. 'Well, I couldn't let my favourite cousin off without this conversation, could I?'

'Your favourite cousin? Really?' She asked with a smirk, looking to the other two cousins who he happened to be sitting with.

'Yeh, James! Really?' Fred asked. Louis punched James on the arm, and he scowled.

'My favourite _female_ cousin!'

Roxanne rolled her eyes. 'Okay, retain focus please! What did you want from me?'

'Aha yes, I knew we'd forgotten something.' Fred's attention returned to her. They were intelligent, all three of them, even though most people doubted it. Roxanne didn't, it took an impressive partnership to concoct all of the pranks they pulled off. 'You're dating Tomas Finnegan.'

'My darling brother, your powers of observation really are excellent!'

'Well, I do pride myself on them, but Louis first realised.'

'And are you sure that he,' she shot Louis a look, 'wasn't just looking because he fancies Allegra?' Allegra was Tomas' twin sister, and the two of them were incredibly attractive. If she hadn't liked them both so much for six years, she was sure it would annoy her. But they were lovely. Allegra was especially lovely, as Tomas had a habit of being a bastard around her sometimes.

Louis blushed. 'I just think she's pretty, is all.'

'Which is why she's all you've talked about for weeks?'

'Shut it, James. You should just be glad that you've got Alice.'

'Okay! Stop distracting me!' Fred glared at the two of them. He looked to me again and sighed. 'Roxanne, are you sure it's a good idea? He seems like a good guy, but he's hurt you before and I don't fancy another month of detentions because of him.'

James laughed. 'Remember that, his face was a picture!' The memory seemed to be too funny for all of them, because within a few seconds Fred and Louis were laughing too.

'Look guys, I really appreciate it, but that was three years ago. We're nearly seventeen now. We've grown up a lot and,' Roxanne smiled despite herself, 'I think I might really like him.'

'As long as you're sure. Roxie, just remember that should you need anything, we can get Dad to send some more stuff down within the hour, okay?' Fred grinned, clearly imagining what he could do.

'Thanks guys. I do really appreciate it.' And she did. They might be crazy lunatics, but they were her family, and they were pretty damned great. It was a good job that Tomas was also pretty amazing, she thought, or it could be difficult for him. 'Can we go back up to dinner now? I'd quite like to actually see my boyfriend.'

(She knows that Tomas might be cocky and overconfident, but it's okay because she is too, and somehow they balance each other out. Besides, the kiss she gives him after they're breathless from running after they've just pranked her cousins for ever doubting them lets her know that he's worth it.)

* * *

'Oh, Fitzwilliam.' Molly sighed.

'Merlin, get a room!'

'What, me and my book?'

'As long as it's not some other actual bloke called Fitzwilliam you're sighing over then I suppose I'll survive.' Oscar grinned, swooping down to kiss her cheek. Molly thought that actually she was quite lucky to have someone like Oscar, who didn't seem to mind that he had to share her with an amazingly attractive, albeit fictional, man.

But then, they had known each other of their whole lives. His Mum was one of Molly's Mum's best friends. A prolonged friendship with Lucy, and most of Molly's cousins too, had informed him of their irreversible love of Pride and Prejudice.

'You'll be glad to know that none of the other Fitzwilliams I know are remotely as lovely as you.' She smiled in response as Oscar laughed.

'What sort of name is Fitzwilliam anyway?' He grinned, 'I mean Oscar isn't perfect, but -'

'It is perfect, actually. I mean, Molly and Fitzwilliam? That sounds awful! Molly and Oscar, that just fits, doesn't it?'

'Molly and Oscar? Don't you mean Oscar and Molly?'

'I don't think so, do you?' Molly stood, squaring up to him, thankful of her father's gene's for giving her a height that was close enough to his that she didn't have to stand on a box to look at his face. She put her hands on her hips, secretly glad that she had someone she could just be silly, be more herself with that anyone else.

Still, Oscar wasn't having any of it. 'It's Oscar,' he smirked, placing his hands on her waist, 'and Molly.'

She whispered into his ear, 'Molly and Oscar?' She allowed no space of argument, but Oscar didn't seem to be interested in arguing today.

'Whatever you like, darling. Whatever you like.'

(Just because he sometimes lets her win, doesn't mean that their fights aren't legendary. She'd rather argue with him than be quiet with anyone else anyway.)

_

* * *

_

Zanipolo Zabini and Dominique Weasley cordially invite you to their wedding

.

No, she simply couldn't imagine it. She thought back over the whole time she'd known him, being friends with him, loving him. He wanted to marry her. He had just told her (not asked, Zanipolo didn't ask, he informed) and she hadn't responded honourably. Actually, she had said no. At the time, she'd not been exactly sure of why she'd turned him down. It was just … why could they not continue as they had before? Why put a label on love? She smiled widely, knowing exactly what she wanted, what she had always wanted. 'Zan!' She called after him. 'Zan, wait!'

'What, Dom? I'm tired of fucking waiting! Just tell me what you want.' He turned round, breath heavy and angry. Merlin, she loved Slytherins. No, not true. She loved this particular Slytherin. More than she could really believe.

'You. Just you. Not some big wedding, not a big ceremony. It's been ten years, Zan, and I love you. Can't we just carry on like this forever?'

He fixed his dark eyes on her, serious for a second. With baited breath, Dominique waited for them to soften. 'What if I want to make an honest woman of you?'

'As honest as I'm ever going to be, darling.' She said, biting her lip. He nodded, smirking. 'But I suppose if you're so desperate to make a dishonest woman of me, I could be content to torment you for all eternity.'

As his lips bruised hers, she was certain that it didn't matter whether she had a ring on her finger or not. This was love and she'd do anything to keep it.

(Though at a push, she supposes she might be able to get used to being Dominique Zabini…)

* * *

Rose sighed loudly, closing her book and letting her forehead slam onto the desk.

'Alight, Rose?' Her Aunt Audrey asked, concerned. Rose loved her Aunt Audrey. She was so sweet to everyone, she was interesting, and it helped that she was the owner of Rose's favourite bookshop.

She had been helping out there almost every evening in the holidays, when Molly was out with Oscar and Lucy was mooching around with Lysander, Lorcan and Frankie. Actually, it was most days she was there. She didn't have any boyfriend to spend her time with. This thought just made her sigh again. She raised her head slightly to look at her Aunt. 'I suppose so. Was it you who gave me Pride and Prejudice when I was thirteen?'

'Think so. Why, finally falling apart is it? Nothing to be worried about, I can rebind it for you, or get you another copy.' Rose shook her head. She'd fixed it several times already with magic, though of course Aunt Audrey couldn't do that.

'No, it's not that.' Rose thumbed the beloved, worn pages a little. 'It's just… well, why can I not find Mr Darcy? Or even Bingley? Merlin, I'd settle for Wickham!'

'Oh, don't say that! You don't want to be like Lydia!' They both smiled in agreement. Rose would not be like Lydia Bennet, flushing at the first sight of an interested man. Audrey smiled at her, questioningly. Rose wondered if she liked these evenings as much as Rose did, because there wasn't any of else who would really appreciate her Pride and Prejudice analogies.

It wasn't really funny though, it had gone past that for Rose. 'I don't want to be Lydia, Aunt Audrey. But am I destined to be Mary?'

'Of course not! You're a lovely girl, you don't have to find your true love at nineteen, you know. It's okay that you didn't find love in school, just because a few other people might have been lucky enough to.'

Rose raised her eyebrow, counting off couples on her fingers. 'Molly and Oscar. Lucy and Lysander. Albus and Scorpius. James and Alice. Teddy and Victoire. Louis and Allegra. Dominique and Zanipolo. All of my family besides you and Uncle Percy, but that's only because you didn't go to Hogwarts!'

'Even so. It doesn't matter. The others have tried to set you up -'

'- because _that_ worked out fantastically last time -'

' - but you haven't liked any of them! It's okay to wait. And for the record, I'm not sorry for ruining you with Jane Austen. Her books are perfect things to be ruined by. Agreed?'

Rose nodded. She supposed that really it wasn't too unusual to be nineteen and not to know love in reality. Maybe the rest of her family were just lucky.

(Still, she thanks Merlin for her past bad luck when the tall man, with messy chestnut hair and eyes like caramel, starts to frequent the shop whenever she's there and she's allowed to say yes when he asks her to dinner. Then she thanks not Merlin, but Jane Austen that she was single for him.)

* * *

Lily stood flush against the wall, almost hoping it would swallow her into it. Staircases moved, walls swallowing people didn't seem too ridiculous, right? She sighed silently, praying for them to go past quicker. The 'them' in reference was Callum Doherty and Philius McCory.

Lily actually rather liked Callum, they had been partners in Ancient Runes for most of fifth year, but Philius was so horrible to her. She had run away from the Great Hall early because he had been mocking her. Again. She knew that she should run straight back up to her dormitory and not listen to their conversation, but she couldn't not.

'You should cut her some slack, Phil. She's a nice girl.' She heard Callum say, close by. She wondered if he knew she was there. She could almost feel Philius shrug.

'I guess. But she's just so easy to provoke, you know?'

'Yeh, 'cause that's a good reason, you bastard!'

'You don't understand. She just grates on me.'

As Lily heard them shuffle past her hiding place, she bit her lip. If Philius wasn't like it around most people, she might be offended. As it was, she knew that Callum was right; he was just a bastard. She could feel her heart beat in her chest, in an emotion she could quite place.

It definitely wasn't, and Rose and Roxy proposed, love. She identified it herself later as loathing. Some guys really sucked.

(And some didn't. Like Callum, she definitely didn't think that he sucked… au contraire, she later identified that she liked him quite a lot. Nice guys really were so much sexier than bad ones.)

* * *

Lucy's eyes flickered open, taking in the early morning lightness of the room around her. Her eyes fell to the sleeping form of her boyfriend.

Mr Darcy was tall, dark and handsome. Merlin, he was gorgeous, with his perfect manners and loyal nature. He used to turn her insides to liquid.

But Lysander is tall, blonde and pretty. He's not really gorgeous, he's elegant and graceful, but also awkward, curious and caring. Around him, her insides remain firmly in place, but her skin tingles where he touches it.

Mr Darcy introduced her to love, that sparkling, inkling of an idea somewhere in the back of her mind. But Lysander made her believe it. She's glad that she's not waking up next to a stony, proper person, but someone she can hug and touch, and who doesn't care that she's an idiot sometimes.

'You're looking at me awfully strangely, Luce.' Lysander looked at her, half buried in the bed covers. He moved closer to her, resting an arm on her waist. She hadn't even realised he was awake. 'Everything okay?'

'Mhm.' She smiled, hand raising to his cheek. 'Do you love me?'

'Of course I do, you know that. Do _you_ love_ me_?' He grinned sleepily, playing this game with her over again.

Lucy yawned. 'You're not Mr Darcy, but you'll do. I do love you.' She looked quickly to the clock. 'This is a silly conversation, why are we up so early?'

'Not much of a change, is it?' He nodded in agreement. The time wasn't really unusual for them. That's what seemed to come from travelling, an honestly ruining body clock.

She doesn't mind though, as Lysander's were the arms that always slid around her back and hugged her when she was upset, or when he was upset, or just for no reason at all. Lysander's were the fingers that tangled themselves into her short hair, and his was the hair that she pulled from it's ponytail as they kissed. The eye's that she drowned blissfully in belonged to Lysander.

A perfect man in fiction was a wonderful escape, but Lysander in reality was far, far better.

(Yes, Mr Darcy may have taught her about being love, but Lysander make her believe in it, and as he tells her, in the voice she's grown up with, grown to fall in love with, she knows that that's the only thing that matters.)


End file.
